


A Spring Storm

by freyjaschariot



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gendrya baby, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 05:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18844633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjaschariot/pseuds/freyjaschariot
Summary: His brow furrowed. “Salt cod? You hate salt cod.”“Usually.” Arya shrugged. “But I’ve been having some strange cravings of late.”For a moment Gendry’s forehead remained crinkled in confusion. Then his eyes widened, realization flooding his face. “Arya… Are you—?”AKA Arya drops some big news on our favorite blacksmith





	A Spring Storm

Arya stood at the cliff’s edge, watching the grey sea crash against the rocks below. It was raining again, a slight, sideways rain, but Arya didn’t mind. Over the past few years, she had actually grown fond of her adopted home’s temperamental weather, its shifting mists and rumbling thunder. 

Some mornings Arya woke to find the sea completely hidden behind the wall of white, a curtain of fog so thick she could reach out her bedroom window and catch the misty curls between her fingers. She liked the fog, and she liked the constant bite of salt on the air, and the sting of sea spray on her face. The Stormlands weren’t for the weak of heart, to be sure, but then neither was the North. In that way, the land of Gendry’s fathers actually reminded her of home. 

Stones crunched behind her and a moment later Arya felt her husband’s strong arms wrap around her waist. 

“I woke and you weren’t there,” Gendry grumbled into the crook of her neck. “It was cold without you.”

Arya smiled as she leaned back into his broad chest. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Dreaming of Winterfell?” 

They had received a raven from Sansa the day before, imploring them to visit in six months time. 

_Jon will be here then, as well,_ she wrote. _How long has it been since we were all together, and not in the midst of a war? Please say you’ll come.”_

They had written back immediately that they would. 

For several years after the war, Arya and Gendry had put off venturing North, not wanting to abandon the Stormlands so soon after becoming its liege lords. They had spent that time meeting the people, building relationships with the other Storm Lords, and repairing infrastructure that had been damaged in the many conflicts of the past decades. 

Now three years had passed, and though she tried to hide it, Arya longed to go North. As much as she liked the Stormlands, she missed her siblings and she dreamed of looking out the window and seeing not the ocean, but the rolling, snow covered hills of her youth. 

And there was another reason as well... One she had yet to share with Gendry. 

“No, actually.” Pulling free of his embrace, Arya spun around to face him. “I dreamt you were feeding me salt cob.”

His brow furrowed. “Salt cod? You hate salt cod.”

“Usually.” Arya shrugged. “But I’ve been having some strange cravings of late.”

For a moment Gendry’s forehead remained crinkled in confusion. Then his eyes widened, realization flooding his face. “Arya… Are you—?”

Arya nodded. She felt almost shy admitting it. They hadn’t talked about it, not really. She had always known Gendry wanted children, but she hadn’t known if she had it in her, emotionally _or_ physically, to bear them for him after everything she had been through. 

A few days ago, while Gendry was out in the yard with his gaggle of smith’s apprentices, Arya had slipped off to find Maester Warrek. When he had confirmed her suspicions, she had cried, and she wasn’t sure if it was out of joy, relief, fear, or some combination of the three.

Snapping out of his stunned repose, Gendry let out a whoop. Catching Arya by the waist, he swept her off her feet and spun her around. 

Arya laughed as he set her down, joy radiating from his broad face. “I take it you’re pleased, then.”

“I am, of course I am.” For a moment his smile faltered. “Are you? I know you weren’t sure—”

“I am,” Arya said, cutting him off, and she was surprised to find how truly she meant it. She was scared, of course. And she wished her mother was alive to guide her through this. But she was safe and loved and so would her babe be. And there would be no better father in all the Seven Kingdoms than Gendry Baratheon. 

Bending down, Gendry kissed her softly. “A babe,” he whispered against her lips. “Our babe.” He rested his forehead against hers. They stood that way for several moments as the waves continued to crash below them. Then Gendry straightened and raked a hand through his black locks. “When will it come?”

“Maester Warrek thinks seven months from now.”

Gendry took this in. “We’re meant to be at Winterfell then. We’ll have to write Sansa and tell her we’ll come later, after the babe is born—”

Arya grabbed his hand. “No, I still want to go when we planned.”

Gendry frowned. “Arya, I don’t think—”

“Listen, please,” she said, “I want our babe to be born in the North.” She spoke fast, afraid he would misinterpret her desire to mean she didn’t want their children to be raised as Stormlanders, when that wasn’t her intention at all. “They’ll live here and that’s as it should be. But half of them is of the North and I want them to know it as I did. And more than that I—” _I want my sister to be there. If I can’t have my mother, at least let me have Sansa._

Arya couldn’t bring herself to say this last part aloud, but somehow she thought her husband understood because his expression softened. “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “It is.”

Smiling, Gendry shook his head. “Davos will say we’re being foolish.”

“Davos always thinks everyone’s being foolish.”

Gendry chuckled. “Well, he did survive this long. He must be doing something right.” He kissed her again. “Will you come inside now? We can have cook bring breakfast to our chambers.”

Arya shook her head and turned around. “Not yet. I want to watch the sea a while longer.”

Gendry’s lips quirked into a crooked smile. “It reminds me of you, you know. Ferocious and beautiful all at the same time. You fit here.”

Arya glanced up at him. “I fit with you.”

“Aye,” he said softly, “that you do.”

Arya leaned back against him once more, his body heat warming her chilled skin. Gendry always seemed to run hot, as though he had a furnace burning away beneath his skin. Arya remembered how he had warmed her the first night they spent together, lying beneath his cloak on a pile of sacks back in Winterfell. If she had known then that this is where they would end up, would she have believed it? Likely, not. But then life, had always had a way of surprising her. 

Arya licked the salt from her lips and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel of sorts to my other one-shot, [A Winter's Meeting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775624), so if you'd like to see how things turn out, hop on over to that one
> 
> Comments inspire me to keep writing!


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